The Dash Circumstance
by DBack47
Summary: Response to Challenge by PhantomInvader! He's good looking, athletic, the dream of Casper High girls, but still finds time to beat up our favorite ghost hybrid. The question is why? Is Dash Baxter the victimizer or victim? Rated T for minor swearing.


Dear Diary…wow that sounds so feminine. I really doubt anyone would guess I, Dash Baxter, would keep one, but…it helps with my frustrations.

I have problems. I won't deny it, but problems of a special sort. Some people think I'm just the greatest jerk in the sophomore class, but really, it's for a reason. If only they knew, if only they were in my shoes, they would understand. Understand the Dash circumstance. Circumstances that is exclusive to me and me alone. Sometimes I stand at my bedroom balcony, wondering whether the fall is far enough to kill me. Am I suicidal? Not really. I won't really jump. But I wonder what would happen if I did. Being gone from this world seems to be an easy fix to my problems, but I'm getting ahead of myself. It started that Thursday afternoon, just as lunch began, late sophomore year.

….

….

I felt like royalty. On one side, my loyal team mates from multiple teams that I have captained. On the other side, enough girls and admirers to make a small club devoted to me alone. It was the way I liked it. But at that point, my thoughts went elsewhere, most of them to the 3 page test in my hands.

_Did you read the chapter? _

_How did you come up with this answer? _

_Redo this for points back _

_X_

_X -3 _

_Please correct, have parent sign page. _

_D- 63% _

_Please see me. _

I wished I had eye lasers, since the chemistry exam was burning my hand. A D-! A freaking 63%!

Really my reaction shouldn't have been that bad, considering that a D wasn't too bad compared to my other tests, but the part that really got to my soft underbelly was the signature part. Really? Was it necessary?

The chemistry teacher was like a college professor, which, unlike the other teachers who were willing to go the extra mile to keep me eligible for sports, this teacher doesn't give a darn rat's tail about really anybody. She was obligated to give me a chance to correct, to get me to a C at least, just by my status as the school's only good quarterback, but it still was like a smack in the face to me. Did she have any idea what consequences I have? What my circumstances are?

And then I saw Fenton. Daniel Fenton. He was just walking, quiet and alone, but with a strong posture, confidence in every step. It's strange how he went from klutzy freshmen nobody to mysterious sophomore with confidence in his walk. What I do know is that he's hiding something. Something big.

Do I fear him? Heck no! But I feel that if he actually fought me, he could at least give me a bad bruise. It's the strangest thing that he just let's me sock him in the gut and he just falls on the floor. Almost funny really, but strange, as if he's so afraid of fighting back that he doesn't raise a finger in protest. But it works for me.

"Hey guys, I'll be using the bathroom so you go on ahead of me" I said. My gang is compliant, and they went on ahead while I set down my bag and silently moved behind Danny. He really grew in just a year, nearly matches me in height, and for some reason, I suspect could match me in strength if he tried. Considering that I always shove him around, I should know.

He stopped, gave a sigh of exasperation and said "I can hear you Dash, alright, go ahead, I'm ready for the treatment"

I swear that Fenton has a hearing enhancement device. Now a days, I can never sneak up on him, even if I ambush him, he seems to have eyes in the back of my head. Doesn't matter, good hearing doesn't protect him.

I grabbed him by the backpack and swung him into the lockers, watching in satisfaction as his head whipped back a second after his body did and slammed independently into the lockers. Painful, the way I like it.

He only grunted in pain, while most people would be yelling for a teacher by now. But for him, resistance to my beating only makes his situation worse.

Shoving him in a locker doesn't work anymore, considering how much he grew during the summer months. So an alternative is the janitor's closet, which is typically locked from the outside and almost always is open, as well as conveniently close to his locker.

I grabbed him by the stomach and like a real battering ram, maneuvered him to where the closet should be and…

It was shut, closed. Darn.

"What now? Dash, run out of places to shove me?" Danny asked, mocking. Mocking me!

Fury rose in my chest. Thinking on the impulse, I used my forearm to shove him into the wall again, whipped out a permanent marker that I carried with me (don't ask me how or why, I just was carrying one that day and knew it) and while I held him by pressing my forearm against his neck, began to scribble on his face. Given time and that he wasn't starting to struggle, I probably would have written something embarrassing there, like **Danny x Sam **but circumstances changed when in a show of force that shocked me, I really didn't anticipate him to throw me off with a force of a linebacker, threw me into the wall.

"What the heck Dash, what the heck is wrong with you, what'd you do! Was that permanent!" He was upset, not downright furious, but angry enough to make me grin. I liked to see him get angry.

Before I could retort, I heard it; the sound of a mob of students tearing down the hallways. Perfect. My plan to totally humiliate him was working. And no teacher to stop the mayhem, considering it was lunch time.

"WE'RE GOING TO KILL YOU FENTON!" Somebody then shouted as the sound of the very angry students echoed around the hallway corner. 

I might have pulled it off, for Danny to get mobbed by tomato sauce covered students, but Danny, most unexpectedly picked me up by the lapels with, for a guy that seems so light when I grab him, a near unnatural strength as he dragged me over to the janitor's closet. Somehow, he just opened the door. Not sure how he had the keys, if he had them. But he threw me in and then slammed the door behind him.

It was pitch black, but apparently he heard as the students ran past, chanting something inaudible to my ears, but clear to Fenton's. I swear again that he has microphones for ears, Sensitive ones. Whatever he heard, he picked up what I had done. And I mean he seemed to know every last detail of the genius prank I had just pulled on him.

He turned on the light, a single dangling bulb with a chord to turn on, illuminated the room. I was still on the floor where he had thrown me, smirking in triumph. It felt good to see Danny so…angry? Okay, maybe I had gone too far this time.

He was staring at me with an angry glare - he was _pissed. _For the first time ever, I became the sole subject of the rage of Danny Fenton-and never forgot it.

"I can't believe what you did!" I swore I saw Fenton's eyes glow green for a moment. Not that I, the great Dash Baxter, was scared of little Fenton anyway, but _still. _I regained his composure after a tiny flinch away from the slightly smaller boy's gaze.

"Do you see what you freaking did here?" Danny continued. By now, I totally wished that someone would barge through the door of the broom closet they he had thrown me into. His rage was similar to coach on a bad day, and a sinking feeling entered my gut that we were locked inside together "Do you have any idea? They're looking for - and do you know why, Dash? Because you couldn't freaking leave me alone for one day! What is it with you? 'Oh gee, maybe I'll get Fenton if I put his name on a sticky note next to the pot of chili in the cafeteria that I put stuff in to make it _explode_ all over everyone!' You didn't get me; all you did was drag me down with you and you - _ugh_!"

Danny continued to seethe as he heard the angry students of Casper High charging through the hallways.

"I don't need you yelling at me, Fenton!"

"Yes you do! You need someone yelling at you, obviously - my god, how stupid can a person get? _What is it with you_?"

Fenton suddenly leaned against a wall and sighed, staring at his shoes as he spoke again, his tone more subdued.

"Why are you so mean to me…?"

I'll never explain what happened next, but I blacked out

…

Danny watched as his duplicate overshadowed Dash and his long time human adversary fell limp.

"Take him to the nurse's office and get him home, wherever that is" Danny murmured as he began to rub his forehead, looking exhausted. Dash's antics were becoming more devious by the year. Not only the physical harassment but more devious pranks that were increasingly damaging to not only Danny's reputation but his mental state Danny saw apparent

Dash sat up, the duplicate within him clear through the neon green eyes, that began to fade as Danny let his duplicate make its presence less apparent to an outside viewer.

"Suppose we should check on him later?" Dash asked

Danny looked contemplative, as he considered it.

"It would be interesting to see what Dash is like at home"

…

I woke up, at home. In my school attire and on my bed as if I was taking a nap.

I was legitimately freaked out. How I got home without a sound and in my school clothes is something else I could never explain, but it happened.

In retrospect (what a big word to use! Guess English class really pays off) I realize what a big jerk I was. But nobody knew, nobody could have known what home was for me.

First off, I must explain who I am. I am Dash Baxter; Handsome, athletic, and top of the social pyramid at Casper High. Varsity basketball as starter player and one of the key scorers (I can really shoot when I want too) as well as Varsity Lacrosse and Varsity football; and all Varsity since freshmen year.

Think I have it all? My Dad is an internationally known architect. My Mom works as the top surgeon at Amity Park Medical Municipal Hospital. We live on the outskirts of Amity Park in a 2 million dollar house that was designed by my father and has been the subjects of books due to its innovative design. Our family is worth millions due to shrewd investments by my Dad along with the enormous inheritance we have.

You would think I have it all, but…that's the problem.

My grandfather was a World War II lieutenant in the air corps that earned the Medal of Honor for bravery during a flying mission over Germany in 1943. He was injured severely in the same mission and after the war made a fortune investing in the housing market. My Dad went to Chicago university and was top of his class there. My Mom went to the University of Michigan and graduated top of the class there too. And there's one more person I forgot to tell you about.

There he was. Ralph Baxter. My 6 year older-than-me brother. Inherited my Dad's blue eyes like me but my mother's black hair. He looks like Fenton's older brother, and even has a voice kind of like him. Standing in the door frame with that smirk on his face. I hate it when he smirks.

He went to a boarding school, graduated top of the class, achieved state records for running and pole vaulting. It shows, considering how wiry he is, and it shows when he used to beat me up, and treat me like I was a ragdoll. It's not that he's stronger than me, just more agile and quick. He's also going to Princeton for law and was named most 'most prospective studying attorney' for 2 years running. Above all, he's the most smug jerk that I know.

"Searching for this?" he mocked, waving my chemistry test in his hands.

"Hey, give it back!"

He handed it to me. I was surprised as I looked at it and then eyed him suspiciously. Then I realized what he had done, because he smiled at me in that 'I got you in trouble' smile

"You ratted! You're a snitch! A canary!"

"You are in something of a fix Dash, so enjoy your non-grounded repute while it stands" he said in a singsong voice that grinded on my nerves. Damn, he knows how to push every button of mine.

"I thought you were at college"

"Arrived home for the weekend, it's a respite from normal schooling. Finding my fan girls pleasurable Dash?" He was slightly taller than me, thinner and lithe. His hair was in a constant state of being slicked back, his clothes in perfect condition and his expression somehow alluring (yay for more English big words!) to any girl within 50 yards. If girls thought I was good looking, they probably though my brother was some sort of sex on legs. His vocabulary, his way to use his voice to charm anyone he pleased and give his oh so professional opinion simply drove me nuts. Just being around him made me nervous and on guard, but when he spoke, then I feel the heat of anger coming on because it usually means he's out to make me miserable.

"They like me! Not you. They like me because I'm team cap…"

"Face it Dash, your friends hook up with you just so that can see me. Paulina sent me almost 50 text messages on Friday. Not bad with the 200 others I acquire from other girls offering everything they have. You just catch the leftovers. Really that Paulina girl would be nice in bed…maybe I'll get busy this weekend" He flashed a devious Cheshire cat grin. Damn.

My face was turning red. I felt a heat rising in my chest, anger rising to the fore "NO I DON'T! Shut up! You leave my friends alone!"

"Whatever Dash" he smirked and began to turn away, strutting as he walked. "By the way, I already notified our mother you lied to the school nurse and left school without leave, a most unsavory action. Must have been a pleasant walk in the rain, considering your varsity jacket got blemished in some sort of mud"

"WHAT! I never…" I was confused. But whatever had happened, all I could think about was the fact that my brother was giving me the Ralph treatment; really psychological warfare on my sanity.

I growled, wanting to grab him, shove his head into the wall. Make him feel the horrible feeling of inferiority that was clouding my vision. "Why don't you just go back to that glorified Princeton of yours Ralph? Leave me alone! Why you have to come home and screw with me is beyond…"

"Mom's coming home in 10 minutes and Dad's ETA is in half an hour." He spun on his heel and grinned at me "Decided to come back from Cincinnati today just to see me. And I know they love to give you a big talk about keeping grades high whenever you're in my presence. I'll be giving my famous, peer support"

"I'll tell on you…that you…you" I gasped as I exerted myself into glaring at him, the veins on my forehead popping out in fury.

"You'll what? Order your drug cronies from the football team to arrive and thrash me? Sure, whatever you say. Just know that Dad already holds you in the lowest regard. Remember the…mishap in his bank account?"

I groaned. The memory was blatant in my mind of my Dad leaning over me, finger in my face, his face aglow with righteous fury when he learned that several thousand dollars in his bank account had digitally vanished. The blame had fallen squarely on my shoulders, even if I knew I had been framed and that it had been one of Ralph's infamous 'pranks'.

Ralph laughed "you can't accomplish anything. Not when you boast barely a 3.0 gpa in school. Not when you scored a 22 on the CAT. Back when I was within the confines of high school, I had a 4.2 gpa and scored a 32 on the first CAT I undertook." Then he repeated himself, in a whiny taunting voice that Dash Baxter sucked at school and Ralph rocked at it.

At that point, I had enough and didn't care about the consequences, so I tackled him. Ralph only laughed and let himself be tackled before throwing me off and kicking me squarely in the area of sensitiveness. Where Ralph had learned how to pwn me so bad I don't know, but when I came up, coughing in pain, and attempted to tackle him again, he let me barrel over to the side and pinned me against the wall in a way that would of impressed a boxer.

It was when he used one of my pressure points, another thing I will never know how he learned to do, to subdue me to the point that I collapsed in agony. Of all the people that I have fought with, Ralph is the only one that has never lost a battle with me. Not ever. Something he loves to rub in my face.

"Say Uncle" Ralph purred as he held me in an arm lock "SAY IT" he growled

"UNCLE!" I cried out, as he pushed my arm beyond the natural point of bending.

"You're weak. The majority of my fraternity friends could wipe the floor with you" he sneered before leaving me in a heap on the floor

"Why are you so mean to me…?" I sniffed in a croaky voice as he walked away.

He stopped, turned away from me as he prepared to exit the hallway where we had battled. "I suppose to prove I am the alpha male around here. Back at school I have to act all humble" he said the word with disdain "Behave the nice guy routine, the smart guy. Around here I can show that I am superior. At school there's competition. Around here I can control you, around here, I can show myself that I am above the peasant stock that you associate yourself with. "

"Yeah, I guess Dad saying how good you are in everything went to your head. Now you have to show it too?" I spat out, wishing I could somehow get the upper hand in a losing battle that was near hopeless.

"It feels good. You haven't tried drugs yet, and thankfully, I can't imagine you with a euphoric experience, that would be dreadful for the community at large. But beating someone up is like a drug, it's addicting and it supplies you with the feeling that you have the power. I got addicted to the euphoria of beating people in high school, but I can't do it in college, so you're there to feed the addiction I guess" He shrugged as I heard faintly the grind of the garage door motor.

"Besides the fact that you're a disgrace to the family. Going to a public school, receiving the worst grades in 4 generations of the Baxter family name, and then becoming some sports jock that will never make it big considering how dreadful the Casper High football team is. I guess I'm doing daddy a favor, making you feel your rightful place, shall we say, taking care of a liability. He would do the same thing Dash, he would make you suffer like he did me."

I was sore from the beating he gave me, but my burning ire against him trumped that, as I really wanted to hurt him, to make him feel my pain. "I don't care"

"You never did. Face it brother, you're nothing more than a disgrace and a loser" He finished, before shooting me a degrading smirk and strutting off.

That was the biggest snub of all, walking away, like the way he did just after that. As if I didn't matter.

"Come back here and face me! Coward!" I screamed back at him as he descended our stairs.

I began to haul myself to my feet when the dreaded noise of the door to the garage opening and my mother walking in, just in time to holler "Dash, stop calling your brother names! And get down here! You're in a heap of trouble!" My mother's shrill voice was even worse than my brother's smug one.

And so is The Dash circumstance. Such is the situation I face at home.

…..

…..

Dash finished writing. The 2nd floor outdoor deck was silent, overlooking Amity Park, the bright lights of the city providing a small amount of light for his diary. He had disguised what he was doing with a large math book hiding his work. The moment his brother found that he had and wrote a diary, whatever credibility he had left with his mom and dad would dry up. Looking to his left, Dash looked in jealousy as he saw his family eating in the dining room a floor below him, yet the windows were open, ajar enough so he could hear snippets of "you always made us proud Ralph".

He had exiled himself to the solitary spot on the deck above them; doing some homework and writing in his diary, refusing to listen to his mom and dad enthuse about his brother's accomplishments. His own TV dinner sat before him cold. The night was warm and damp, the smell of the spring rain fresh. The mosquitoes were beginning to bite, but Dash preferred it over the air conditioned dining room where he would be subjected to condescending glares from his parents and the occasional smirks from his brother. Why'd he have to visit? Life was miserable enough as it was without him.

A copy of _Catcher in the Rye _sat on the porch table before him, overturned. He felt like the character Holden in the book. Begotten and without friends, parents holding him in disdain, brother drowning him in superiority. There was no-one to talk to. No one to share his angst with. His friends at school really were nothing more than fabrications, giving him an artificial disguise of success at Casper High to compensate for his depression at home.

He got up and moved to the railing, contemplating how high it was. It probably wasn't enough to kill him, but enough to break a rib or two.

A frigid wind brushed past Dash, cold filling the air. He raised his head in suspicion when he saw…

His unreal form floated before him. His hair catching the lights of the city, adding to its supernatural glow. His eyes staring at him curiously, the green irises within them, although rather disconcerting to look at, were soft and interested while his expression was passive and inquisitive. The specter, floating with his legs crossed in mid air, cocked his head like a curious cat.

Dash may have been a fan boy, but tonight, he wasn't in the mood to ask questions to his hero.

"Well" Dash growled, trying to hide his nervousness that Danny Phantom was staring at him, although partly thrilled to see his hero at all "what'd want?"

"You're not really that bad a guy are you Dash?" His voice came, as if from away but perceptive and friendly

"How would you know, you're just a ghost" Dash muttered as he sank back into the plush porch seat.

Danny smiled "I can see your aura; it's a lot more…pleasant than I would have guessed it to be"

Dash snorted "Are you a hero or just a stalker that likes to help people"

"No, just your friendly neighborhood ghost" Danny spoofed off spider man "No it's just a new ability I picked up recently, actually very useful." He turned to the side and noticed Ralph a floor below. He scowled "I never knew you had a brother"

"What do you do, haunt Casper High all day long?" Dash dryly accused "you seem too familiar with me for comfort"

"In a way" Danny mysteriously hinted as he watched Ralph. "Your brother's aura isn't all that friendly"

"Tell me about it" Dash rolled his eyes. He's the reason why I beat up on that one kid, Daniel Fenton at school as often as I can.

Danny raised an eyebrow and looked back at Dash in askance "Your brother causes you to do that?"

"Do you know who Danny Fenton is? He looks just like Ralph. I can't wail on my brother, I just get a bloody nose and angry parents. Danny is my way out for my frustrations. He is my punching bag that stands in for Ralph."

Danny turned away to hide his true emotions, while Dash continued "I hate my life. It could be worse I know, but a bad situation is still bad. Every day I live with the notion that I'm supposed to be some wonder child but I'm not. It's sickening to imagine you don't deserve all this wealth" Dash motioned to the large and ornate house behind him "and that your father considers you a disgrace. Worst of all, I hate being some tough guy at school and pretending about it all. I'm think I'm getting as sick as Danny Fenton is about the beatings, and I'm just tired of friends who are just…artificial. Paulina and her gang are so impulsive; they would more likely kiss a boy than become his girlfriend. All they care about is being the top and that's it."

Dash sighed as he continued on "I just want to be myself. Play sports without pressure, have friends that actually mean something to me"

"What about Kwan?" Danny asked

"He's just another jock. Really just follows me around like some faithful bodyguard. Smart guy but terrible social skills, and I figure he hangs around me so much to cash in on the social status."

A holler interrupted their conversation, echoing from the dining windows below. "Dash, my brother, you okay? Your talking to yourself is highly disconcerting."

Danny took a glance to the windows below to see Ralph staring up at them, that perpetual smirk adorning his face, the duplicity in his expression clear. It was an act, a disguise to Dash's parents that Ralph actually cared.

"He can't see you?" Dash was bemused as he inspected Danny, hoping he really wasn't crazy.

"No, just another recent ability I picked up. I can choose who I am visible and audible too. Useful, especially when you have to accompany someone around without others noticing" Danny continued to stare at Ralph, who had sat back down and continued to talk to Dash's parents, Danny's acute hearing able to pick up as he continued to sweet talk Mr. Baxter.

Dash meanwhile was nervously looking at his idol. The way the specter just sat in mid air, defying the force that kept him planted to the ground. The abilities he had to ignore the fundament rules of physics. Whips of silent energy swirling just above his black suit, the insignia branded onto his chest that proclaimed protection and nobility to the world.

He had never been just a hero to Dash just for his actions, or the latter hated to say it, absolutely magnetizing image of manliness, as Paulina put it so adoringly. To Dash, Danny Phantom represented what he dreamed about doing. To be able to throw away reality and take to the air, forgetting the responsibilities of the ground. To be able to soar with no limits on where he could go, and above all, to have the unique abilities and spectral powers to resist, at least resist the dangers of life.

"Must be nice, being able to do all your stuff" Dash muttered as he picked up _Catcher in the Rye _and began to read again.

"What?" Phantom asked distractedly

"Being able to just fly, and walk through walls, and being able to incinerate your foes. To be tough like that" Dash didn't look up from his book.

Phantom started at Dash, before chuckling. His voice was bitter and insightful "Dash…toughness isn't about what you can do. Look at Hitler. Was he tough? When it came down to it, he shot himself. Was that strength?"

Dash stopped reading but his eyes remained on the words of the book, listening intently.

Danny shook his head. "When I first started these heroics, it wasn't trying to be tough. Nor did I feel all that tough beating up those first ghosts. Toughness is measured not in how we act, but how we react to things"

Dash set the book down, interested. "Explain" he asked intently

"When it comes down to it, which will be called the tough guy, the soldier or superman? Superman never felt powerless against his enemies. He could live without fear. The soldier must live with a pounding fear of death every moment in battle, worry about his squad mates and fight against an enemy unseen. He has to follow orders and do his best even in hopeless situations. Superman just had to out think his enemy and make sure he didn't get injured. The soldier must simply do what he is told to do no matter what, and worry about not getting killed."

Phantom looked up as the night clouds parted and the half crescent moon came out, the silver light only adding to his already silver hair. "The soldier will never be remembered, or revered like Superman, or do incredible things that save an entire city, usually. That's what makes him tough, because he fights on despite the odds stacked against him."

Dash was quiet. Phantom stopped and paused. "It's the firemen, not me, running into probable death to save just one life. It's the policemen, not me, putting up with the crap people give them. I am just a vigilante, doing what I can, but for them, they are asked to do beyond what they think they can do. What makes them tough is when they do it"

Phantom turned to Dash, his eyes boring into Dash's sapphire blues. "That goes for you to Dash, because taking the easy way out by beating on Fenton, and acting like a jerk at school, that's not the man's way"

"And what is?" Dash pleaded, a sincere voice within him reaching through the various disguises of his home life of his brother's tyrannical actions.

Danny smiled, a genuine smile that promised prosperity "being the good guy to everybody, or being the hero to all, not just your friends. Above all, being the good guy to everybody when it's hard. That is what will make you a tough guy. Maybe not in the eyes of others, but to you, which is more important. I believe anyway. Maybe it's time to stop acting like a Baxter, and more like Dash, the real Dash."

Phantom drew back, before looking at the moon. "Time to go."

"Wait!" Dash shot up and attempted to hold the phantom back, only to realize the futility of it. But Phantom looked back, attentive.

Dash was abuzz with questions, but had only one that meant anything to him. "What should I do about my family?"

"Be a man Dash, don't be a Baxter. You don't have to be as big a jerk as Ralph is too you." Phantom shrugged "but what can I say, I'm just a ghost"

Dash realized that their time was drawing to a rapid close and blurted a final question out. "Will I meet you again?"

"I see you every day Dash" Phantom laughed, drawing back and out of Dash's reach.

"What'd you mean?" Dash asked more desperately

"Who says a ghost has to be dead?" Phantom chuckled again before shimmering out of sight, his form fading from view and revealing the stars behind him, twinkling.

Dash stared, awed as he gazed into the night, praying that it had all been real and not a dream.

…..

…..

Dear Diary. Why do people even write that? It's not as if the diary is going to write back to them. Anyway.

As a school teacher for some 15 years I've seen it all; Geniuses and athletic queens, Valley Girls and bookworms. It's what makes the job bearable, considering how that without the students, grading papers and making lesson plans night and day for a under inflated wage would drive me insane.

They always surprise you. No two students are alike, which is something I wish I could address more appropriate. Students would learn so much better if I could teach at their level and pace. Unfortunately, I am but a single man in a school of several hundred, therefore, I must treat all students the same, no matter how much they beg me for a time extension on the test correction due dates. I'm not being unfair, I just have to be a tough cookie and make sure that students don't get special treatment.

But sometimes I wish I could take a step back and look at each student like a novel. Each of the teenagers that I teach several times a day is as complex and fascinating as any well written book. Even the smartest and worst students can tell a tale of suffering and triumphs. Maybe that is why I became a teacher; my love of reading good novels translates to reading interesting students. That's why I sometimes wish I could just teach a class of 5 or ten rather than 30. Oh well, such is life.

Most students become just another face in the year book to forget, but some of my wonderful pupils stick in my mind forever. Others…well, I sometimes want to forget. But then that raises the question of why. Such is the case with two of the biggest trouble makers in the school.

Daniel Fenton is a strange case. He seems to holding a façade, a pretense of incompetence. I know he could do better in school, looking at his sister's success, and I know that he could get more sleep and be less sullen all the time. He never told me what, but it's not as if he's being lazy. I can see it in his eyes, his posture, he looks like he's engaged in some physical activity, not sports since he's on none of the teams, but something is directing his energies away from school. I can only guess what, but I pray its something for the betterment of the community. His life would be easier should his counterpart, Dash Baxter, the other troublemaker, would leave him alone. The funny thing is, now he does.

Dash Baxter is changing, he used to be a social and athletic king, and literally treated Fenton like some punching bag to release pent up internal frustrations. But that one day after Daniel pulled a prank (I don't really think it was him, he's just not a person to pull a prank like that), something bizarre occurred. Dash began to act more personable, more…like the Dash Baxter like I imagined him to be. Before he always seemed to be acting, trying to be the best, the most popular, although his grades hardly reflected that striving he had for social status. Now he stopped acting, as he's lost some of his friends and gained new ones. There's no more façade, no mask, just Dash. Most of his old friends moved on and I believe (teachers have only a vague but rudimentary concept of the social pyramid) he has fallen to a prince on the so called "A-list" instead of the kindly position he used to have. His grades still are very rocky although in English I am delighted to write that he has taken an interest in books, notably _Catcher in the Rye_. As much as I might steer stormy adolescents away from that equally stormy book, I am pleased to see that Dash has a genuine interest in reading teenage angst books like that.

He also plays harder on sports. No more flashy moves to attract attention, just smarter ones. I always knew he liked sports, but now that his true love for it has progressed past the old mask of being the popular kid, I think he may have a real chance at a college scholarship for his playing. He's not big ten material, and our team will have to get a lot better before any major coaches watch our team, but he's good.

The most strange thing is that he stopped the beating on Daniel. Sometimes I ask myself, 'you should stop that behavior of bullying Andrew, your last name, Lancer signifies a man who charges against the enemy and brings justice' and those sort of questions, but I never really did anything. I did order Dash to stop and he always complied, but perhaps I am a little guilty of being permissive. But after being at Casper High for so long, you realize that saving one student from bullying is nearly futile in the face of the perpetual bullying that curses so many school, but even so, I should have been more watchful of Dash's antics. I'm sure it would have saved Daniel the trouble.

But that's the point, Daniel almost seems…friendly towards Dash now a days and Dash reciprocates that. Remarkable really. I can only speculate what brought on the change.

I guess Dash is growing up. He seems happier, more loose and willing to cooperate. All that bullying of the past had a reason, I know it did, but Dash is being truly mature. I guess that's what maturity is all about, being able to shoulder troubles.

Talking about troubles, I think Daniel vanished from class again. Figures. I can't figure out whether Daniel is a man and taking care of serious business, or has a child sized bladder and needs to go in the middle of class every day.

I guess maturity comes in many ways.

….

THIS HAS BEEN A RESPONSE TO PHANTOM INVADER'S CHALLENGE

THANK YOU TO ANY OF YOU WHO READ AND REVIEW


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